


Unexpected Grace

by blueteak



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Light D/s, M/M, Sibling Incest, Voyeurism, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 17:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8999878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueteak/pseuds/blueteak
Summary: Louis interrupts Philippe and the Chevalier during an intimate moment





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spock/gifts).



For once, Louis could admit that Philippe’s role was the more difficult. All Louis had to do was stand there and try not to let Phillipe and the Chevalier see him tremble. Phillipe had to leave the Chevalier’s arms, cross the room, kneel in front of him, and then pleasure him.

Louis also had to admit that Phillipe had performed with grace. He’d crossed the room, lips still bruised and slick from his kiss with the Chevalier, and dropped to his knees in front of Louis as though it were nothing. 

Phillipe, who bowed mockingly, if at all, and had knelt **on** Louis during their various fights but never in front of him, had gone to his knees, looked up at Louis as though preparing to worship him, and smiled tentatively. A look that invited Louis to see that Philippe couldn’t quite believe this was happening either, but that he was joyful about it. 

Louis allowed himself to smile down at Phillipe and tried not to think about what his face might be revealing to Phillipe. Or the Chevalier.

Try as he might to forget the Chevalier, Louis couldn't keep his head down and enjoy the sight of Phillipe on his knees, that throat he’d often yearned to wrap his hands around working to accommodate him, drink him down. 

No. When he could feel the Chevalier’s saliva moistening the lips that were around his cock, it was hard to forget him. And, of course, the man made no effort to make himself forgettable, even while watching incest take place before his very eyes.

The Chevalier looked far from disgusted, though Louis was sure he’d be able to put on quite a show of horror if they were caught in the act. No, the Chevalier looked both proud and jealous as he watched Philippe in action, his eyes tracking every movement of Philippe’s hand and head, as though taking an inventory so he could compare what the king received to what he himself got from Philippe.

Louis spared a moment to wonder what would happen if Phillipe gave him a more tender touch than he’d given the Chevalier, or seemed to grip him tighter. Would there be a slap and tears? Would the Chevalier move out of their rooms and take his inappropriate laughter with him? And would Philippe then kneel to please only Louis, and not just his lover?

Even as Louis tugged on Phillipe’s hair while attempting to stare down the Chevalier, he knew the answer would be no. While Phillipe was good, seeming to know instinctively what Louis would enjoy the most (Louis’s mind skittered away from how that could be), and seemed to be focusing only on his brother, Louis knew that if Philippe were a cat, his ears would be cocked to better sense what was going on behind him. As much as he was leaning in to Louis, he was leaning back toward the Chevalier.  
Every lick to Louis's cock was meant to be felt by the Chevalier as well as Louis.

Philippe was teasing him now, drawing things out and managing, somehow, to smirk up at him even with his mouth full. Louis was intimately acquainted with all the ways Philippe had of baiting people. Despite surface similarities, this was different. This was how Philippe played with his lovers. With the Chevalier. It wasn’t designed to challenge in a way that ended the intimacy. It was an invitation to a dance that could go several ways. Louis could relax and enjoy the teasing, or he could be stern, and thrust harder while tugging Philippe’s hair. Here and now, and only here and now, Philippe would submit to his brother’s correction with not only the absence of resentment, but with desire.

As amazing as all of this was—he had tried to avoid even dreaming of Philippe like this, and yet here they were, doing this while his dream castle was being constructed—Louis was the one left feeling resentful. Philippe had knelt and would submit with pleasure not because it was right and proper to do so for his king. Nor because he loved his brother and wanted to please him. Instead, he was doing it for the Chevalier. A man who’d moved into Philippe’s bed one night and never left. A man Philippe wanted to rule him, at least in some matters. 

Indeed, none of this would have happened without the Chevalier. Louis had interrupted them in bed, curled up and lazily giving one another pleasure. What they were doing was so practiced and coordinated it looked beautiful, like a performance, but they performed only for one another. 

The Chevalier had looked up, caught Louis’s eye. Louis had seen the moment when the Chevalier went from struggling not to order the king out to studying him and his reactions to what he was witnessing. Then he’d looked resigned, and held on to Philippe a little tighter.

Louis had assumed he’d been (reluctantly) issued an invitation to the performance, but the Chevalier had leaned down and whispered something in Philippe’s ear that had made his brother start. Louis would eventually find out what it had been. 

After what felt like an hour, Philippe had looked at him. Shy, assessing. “Are you sure?” his brother had asked the Chevalier. 

“Look at his breeches, Mignonette,” the Chevalier had snorted.“Go to him. You owe him. I owe him. And God help me, you want one another.”

To Louis’s frustration, Philippe skipped over what the Chevalier had said about them wanting one another. He still hadn’t found his own tongue enough to insist on an explanation.“I owe him?” Philippe had asked in a tone that indicated he’d asked this question before, maybe several times.

“You owe him me,” the Chevalier had replied, with more tenderness than Louis had thought him capable of even after having just seen him with Philippe.

Philippe had nodded, looking between them. “And what do I owe him?”  
The Chevalier affected nonchalance that, either by design or flaw, could not hide either his interest in seeing this play out or his reluctance to allow it to happen. “You owe him your mouth. It is one of your greatest gifts. And what do you get for the man who has everything?”

Philippe had turned and swatted the Chevalier playfully, then had his wrists restrained while he was caught up in that searing kiss. 

Louis had not been able to make himself leave, even when the Chevalier had essentially ordered Philippe to suck Louis’s cock. 

He had wanted to pretend he didn’t want his brother and that his brother didn’t take orders so easily from another man. But he hadn’t wanted to pretend more than he wanted what they were both offering.

And so he took it, including Philippe’s teasing. While he sensed he could order him as the Chevalier had, there was no point now in inviting memories of how he'd demanded Philippe's obedience in the past. Not when Philippe was on the edge of bringing him to a truly spectacular orgasm. 

When Philippe finally allowed him to come, he surprised Louis by swallowing almost all of him. He did miss a drop when Louis pulled out and was reaching to wipe it away when Louis stayed his hand. After watching Philippe work so hard to swallow, Louis couldn’t allow him to miss even a drop. He cupped Philippe’s cheek and fed him the drop with his thumb. Philippe sucked it for longer than necessary.

Then Philippe rose without permission from either of them, leaving Louis to tuck himself back in. 

“Brother, I….Thank you,” Louis finally brought himself to say. 

Philippe smiled like he was proud of the skill that had made his brother sound so raw, but it was the Chevalier who answered. “You’re welcome. Maybe if you let us leave Versailles every now and again I’ll let you fuck him.”

And damn him, damn them both, Louis couldn’t pretend he didn’t want to.


End file.
